NTWF Mafia II: The Idyllic Village of Wafflenet

[Gelquie]

Julie continued to play as she watched everyone else. Apparently, Tracy, Dove, and Osi were concocting a plan to go over the rooftops to get supplies. She took another glance out at the rain and the rooftops and she frowned. Going out there in the middle of a heavy storm? Was it really the best idea? Sure, everyone had very limited supplies where they were, but couldn't they at least wait for the storm to die down a bit?

...Then again, by that time, supplies might already be destroyed, and if the storm lasted for too long... They had to do something. Still... Would they be all right?

Her worries about the situation showed in her music, and her tune became even more minor in key. She hardly knew she was doing it, really. Spend enough time playing improvised music, and it becomes a bit more natural. Well, on her mandolin, at least; it was a little harder on her other instruments--

HER OTHER INSTRUMENTS.

Julie stopped playing immediately. Her house was in no way ready for a flood. Which meant that water could get in easily and probably damage all of them beyond repair! None of her instruments were in a safe place! She didn't have many other instruments, but she could never consider herself rich; it would take her ages to replace them. And then what if she needed to play music with something else for a commission and she couldn't play it because the instrument was destroyed? Then it wouldn't just take longer to buy back some instruments and have other things to play, it would be even harder for her to make ends meet.

...Assuming she survived all of this, Julie thought glumly. But still, she wanted to have some hope for the future. ...Even if that hope was hard to see right now.

Julie fidgeted in her spot. "My instruments... They're in danger too. If I had known, I'd have put them higher..." She stopped herself. Could she really ask them to risk their lives even more than they already are? But should she go with them? She wasn't sure how long she'd last on slippery roofs. Heck, she had barely been on roofs. On the other hand... Neither place was very safe. The attic here likely still had the murderers inside, while out there she could slip and fall and be lost.

Julie just sat there, at a loss for what to do.

[Terra]

Blaze was surprised to hear Britknee talking to her.

"Umm," said Britknee. "He is probably like, you know. A GODFATHER. Duh! Like, a father to someone's god or something!”

“That’s STUPID,” said Blaze. “GODS DON’T EXIST, DUMMY.”

Then Britknee continued -

“MORE IMPORTANTLY, Yelly-- I mean, Blaze... that is some like, delish looking doggie food! Could Snuggles have it since your beast-wolf apparently won't touch it since I'm sure she's like, totes used to eating people or something instead?" When Blaze didn't immediately reply, Brit added in her most sweetest cutest voice, "Please?"

Blaze sighed. “Ugh, FINE,” she said. “Primrose doesn’t need it anyway. She’s used to BETTER FOOD.”

Then she turned back to Don Dan.

“I haven’t heard about you being a godfather before, though,” she said. “That’s really interesting. Wouldn’t have thought.”

[Robyn]

As their tentative plan solidified, a few of the townspeople had realized just what was at stake with the flood threatening to destroy possessions and evidence alike.

"Listen, since you're all going out, please go to the town hall and make sure the archives are all safe. Those are priceless sources which cannot be destroyed at all costs!"

"My instruments... They're in danger too. If I had known, I'd have put them higher..."

Puella Paloma Columbidae's justice meter was going off the charts. If anyone could help these poor, bereaved citizens find hope again, it was her. She looked around. Strangely, there hadn't been a word out of Osilon this whole time, and Chaetura-san was busy fitting Birch-sensei with a hat. That reminded her. She ran a hand over her head, and-- ah. She thought something had felt different. Was tinfoil a good deterrent against rain? She supposed she was about to find out.

"FRIENDS!" she cried, "Put your fears at rest! I will be the one to venture forth into the black of the storm. The light of my goodwill shall shine through the worst of any weather. Chaetura-san, and any others who dare chart this course with me, you may follow when ready."

With a small peace-sign salute, Puella Paloma Columbidae scurried up the stairs to the roof. The trapdoor was rattling, holding back nature's ferocity, and it took her a few tries until she could push it open. The door slammed, the wind roared, and Puella Paloma Columbidae held back a shout of surprise as an icy blast of rain lashed across her face, flying in a howling frenzy. She struggled to get up on the roof's surface, and but once she found her footing, she quickly shut the door, not wanting anyone down below to get wet. It wouldn't do to have the building flood from both directions.

She was shivering after five seconds. Her pigtails were darkened and heavy against her shoulders, her ribbons were sagging, and the usually light, bouncy fabric of her skirt was now feeling more like cement above her thighs. The heavy downpour was blurring her vision, but through it all she could see that the window of the neighboring building had indeed been propped wide open. Nothing connected them, but it wasn't that far of a jump.

Puella Paloma Columbidae looked down and did some calculations. If she happened to slip, it would be a ten foot free-fall ending with a big splash into a raging river of mud, debris, and rapids, and she wasn't a strong swimmer. She swallowed dryly, adjusting her stance as she steadied herself to take the leap of faith.

"Don't be afraid," she reassured herself, "It is a weak heart that is ruled by fear."

Her ribbons pooled around her feet, too water-logged to be practical now.

"A magical girl does what is best not for herself, but for the good of others and of all mankind."

There were a hesitant few seconds before she dropped her scepter as well.

"The power is within me. I can do this," she breathed.

"I can."



Puella Paloma Columbidae jumped.

[Avery]

“Ugh, FINE,” she said. “Primrose doesn’t need it anyway. She’s used to BETTER FOOD.”

"Oooh, thanks!" Brit said, taking the can from Blaze and setting it before Snuggles. He crawled out of her purse just long enough to wolf down the can (haha, wolf!), then slunk back into Brit's handbag. Which was fine with Brit, on account of the fact that she was like, still totes scared that if Snuggles was unprotected for any length of time, Blaze's wolf-beast would eat her precious wittle puppy.

Also, Brit had decided there were like, two types of people in this dumb town: the dumb, and the really really really REALLY dumb. It was hard to discern which sometimes, but Brit was suddenly confident that the anime girl was like, definitely in the latter category. See, so far most everyone else had talked about going and scavenging for supplies, but it had been just that: talk. Anime Girl, though, like, took it a step further by actually deciding to leave the attic. Ummm, hello!? Brit watched in horror as Puella/Dove/whatevs ascended the stairs towards the trapdoor that led out to the roof. As Puella opened it, water gushed in, and the wind roared. But Puella/Dove/whatevs ignored the horrid weather, wiggled up through the trapdoor, and then slammed it shut behind her. All the while, the rest of the people in the attic just like, watched. Watched!

Uhh, hello!? Were these idiots just going to let their fellow townsperson go drown outside or something!?

Brit did not normally have a hero complex. However, after so many deaths, and running on so little sleep, it suddenly infuriated her what Dove was doing. There were enough flipping-flapping-fracking deaths without idiots gallivanting about on the rooftops! And like, if Dove died, that left less people alive, which meant more of a chance of Brit dying when the mafia struck again! HECK NO WAS SHE LETTING THAT HAPPEN!

Peeling off her super sexy stilettos, Britknee thrust her handbag-- and Snuggles inside-- towards the most trustworthy-looking person in the attic, Sparky Drama O'Llama. "Like, watch him for me, will you?" she squeaked.

Then, before she could talk herself out of it, Brit climbed the stairs and shoved open the trapdoor. As the rain lashed at her, she forced herself through it and then slammed the door shut. Blinking agains the storm, it like, took her a moment to find Puella... and once she did, like, Brit's stomach dropped. This idiot was about to lob herself off the roof! Uhhh, what!!!!

"YOU LIKE, MORON PERSON!" Britknee shrieked, seizing hold of the anime girl's arm just before the dumb stupid idiot person plunged to her inevitable death. Forcing Puella back from the edge of the roof, Britknee screamed over the rain, "ARE YOU TRYING TO LIKE, KILL YOURSELF!? Cos if you wanna die, just offer yourself up to the mafia instead of jumping off a roof, jeesh! Then at least maybe the rest of us will have a chance!"

((Narrator Note: The execution should be up sometime in the next 5-6 hours. ))

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

Fluffle sighed in relief. She was about to test freezing her back long enough to go get Puella if she fell, but the lady she saved a few days ago got her first.

That was exciting.

Now she was bored again.

Hold on. If she thought less about her feet and more about her back and flank, perhaps all of it could be solid and she could carry them across...

Fluffle tickled Nora's nose again, then began practicing. She needed a test subject, though. Fluffle went over to the nearest person, tapped them on the shoulder, and knelt down, beckoning that person to try and get on....

[Draco]

Rocky was still sitting on the ground, depressingly tending to the mushrooms when the room filled with water. In minutes he was submerged under water and his mushrooms were floating away. He awkwardly tried to grab hold of them with no success, and sighed. Looking around he noticed everyone was gone, well except for Python's dead body... He floated over to the front door and opened it, pushing it outside.

He floated up into the ceiling and into the attic, only his head poking through. Looking around he flies over to Julie, giving her a tackle hug.

"You all left me downstairs! And now you sit here in the dusty old attic when there is a flood going on! This is terrible!"

He hands Julie a white rose then floats around handing the other girls each a rose as well.

[Gelquie]

Julie could only stare at Dove as she ran off, promising to fix everyone's problems directly related to this storm. She once again stared outside the window and winced as a violent gust of wind thrashed some water around in the town square below. Could she really make it in this sort of weather? And even if she did, could she manage to address everyone's problems? But more importantly, what would be her state upon her return? ...If she does return...

Julie returned to strumming her instrument, trying to calm herself down from her worries. She wasn't sure if she could fare much better, and she wasn't sure if there was really anything else she could do. As much as she wanted to do something.

Before she had gotten too far in her tune, however, she was taken aback by the return of Alex's ghost tackle-hugging her. She let out a yelp and was taken by, accidentally bumping her head into the window and managing to nudge it open slightly. She shot a worried look towards the window before she saw that the window wasn't even open that far, unless she decided to push it open some more. Deciding that that was a bad idea, she tried to scooch herself forward and then sit to the side of the window, taking the rose in her hand. On the back of her mind, she kept wondering where he kept getting these things.

"There's nowhere else to go," she commented before sending a nervous look to the flower in her hand. "Except she did leave. Out there in the rain..." She lets out a sigh. "Please be alright..."

[Dan]

Wet, wet, wet. Everything was dripping, soaking, unpleasantly wet and Don Dan Maphia wanted nothing to do with any of it. Above all else, he just wanted out of this horrifying nightmare of a town, but that seemed as likely as one of Tracy's aliens swooping in to save the day.

Of course, the mafia could execute him. That'd be one way out, though a bit more permanent than he truly desired. But it seemed they had other ideas: his brother-in-law. He supposed he couldn't complain with their decision, as bad as that sounded. THE PYTHON wasn't exactly someone truly beloved in town, nor someone Don Dan held in high esteem. Ginz seemed to see something good behind the terrible exterior, though, and she was such a good judge of character that he tried his hardest to see what she saw too. It took a lot of trying, but if he squinted just right he thought he could see a glimmer of goodness within. Just a smidge.

Though that smidge didn't really seem to make itself known when they all had finally trudged up to the cold, creaking, cramped attic. Not more than five minutes had elapsed when he was accosted by what could only be the specter of his deceased brother-in-law. He had just managed to calm his wife enough after the sickening realization that she was indeed the last of her family left, and their odds for survival seemed to be diminishing with every hour. The entire Mahb-Maphia family could be extinguished within the span of one bloody week, and that sort of thought just doesn't get shaken easily. But he'd managed to keep Ginz at least calm, though he suspected she was a little shell-shocked. He didn't blame her; this wasn't going to be easy to overcome...and it certainly wouldn't be helped by the reappearance of THE PYTHON, now cloaked in chains, which he'd probably pass off as some thing to drive the ladies wild.

The first thought Don Dan had when his brother-in-law showed up was of the coffee cup they'd left down in the diner. One Mahb had just shown up; that surely indicated that he wasn't imagining things before when he'd seen Penny in the coffee. He hoped she would make it up here into the attic too. Maybe that would comfort Ginz, to be able to speak to her siblings again, albeit in a more bittersweet manner.

"PYTHON MARLEY hopes you're happy, bro. Now you're the most manly Mahb left, and that's barely anything at all. Who's going to carry on the family line now? You won't of course, you'll probably end up having a bunch of little girls." He shook his head, the chains of his new uniform rattling and leaving behind an ethereal glow. "PYTHON MARLEY knows you were jealous of how great he is and all, but did you really have to kill him? You just doomed the world to forward-thinking, you know that?" He spun around and threw his hands up into the air. "Before you know it, all women will be driving and voting and raising children by themselves." He thought about this for a minute. "PYTHON MARLEY thinks that on second thought, he'd rather be dead than live in that kind of world. Nice one, Mafia dudes." he glanced over his shoulder at Don Dan again. "Except you, PYTHON MARLEY thinks you make a totally bogus godfather."

He was about to respond to this barrage of insults and unfair accusations, but Blaze, the woman with the wolf, spoke first.

“What? Whose godfather are you?”

He sighed. It hadn't been in the forefront of his mind lately with all the more immediate violence here in town, and he wasn't exactly eager to share the details of his home life in the off-chance that this sort of thing would get these paranoid and upset townspeople to target him, but he knew if he denied anything now, people would just get even more suspicious.

"My sister, she just had her baby," he said reluctantly, looking everywhere but at the ghost of his brother-in-law who had resumed posing in his new ethereal outfit. "And she named me his godfather. I'm to attend the baptism in a few weeks...that is, if any of us will be able to escape this godforsaken drowned town."

He returned his gaze to the spirit with disdain. "And as for you, MELVIN, perhaps you shouldn't be so quick to throw around harmful accusations, when I hold the key to your family line continuing? I want for that to happen as much as you do, especially after the events of the past few days. A few Mahb daughters would be just the thing to atone for your presence in this town."

With that he turned on his heel and left the ghost to bother someone else. He'd had enough of the man to last him a lifetime, literally.

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

(GAH I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO POST THIS BUT THE FORUM IS BEING AL GLITCHY)

Fluffle's ears perked. Another ghost! And it was Rocky/Alex at that! Her tail wagged, for she missed him so. He was always the life of the team meetings, with his non-Edward-like sparkles and loving hands. His plans and ideas...not so much. Those were often unrelated to the meeting topic at hand.

May 27, 2013 18:53:25 GMT -5 Draco said:

"You all left me downstairs! And now you sit here in the dusty old attic when there is a flood going on! This is terrible!"

Fluffle's ears drooped. She'd been so busy being bored that she'd forgotten her friend. Fluffle opened her mouth, about to apologize...when Alex handed Julie a white rose. How sweet.

She wasn't jealous. She promised. But then, he started handing out different colored roses to all the women in the attic. Including...her! The rose was peach, which meant...er. Fluffle tried to remember. The flavors of her snacks were important, but the meanings, not so much. She came to the conclusion that it meant "We should hang out sometime." Fluffle did her best to solidify her entire mouth, and she chewed the rose in gratitude.

Ohhhhh, Celestia. Real food tasted so much better on a ghostly palate. She swamped Alex in a fluffy hug, hoping he'd pet her.

Fluffle, through the hug, felt a pang of jealousy. Here was a ghost who knew what his purpose was. Fluffle hadn't yet decided if she wanted to be helpful or mischievous. Both seemed like excellent options and both options made her happy.

Fluffle shook her head. It was so obvious.

She'd float someone across, drop him, and then catch him again. Hehehe. If that wasn't both helpful AND mischievous, she didn't know what was!

Now, to find a victim...

[Avery]

When you stick a crowd of terrified, tired, and edgy people into a stuffy attic, tension is bound to develop-- especially when those people know all too well that several murderers lurk within their numbers.

And when the accusations started being flung about, shortly before midnight, at which point the townspeople had been holed up in the attic for approximately four hours, they were nasty little missives. The logic they had ascribed to in their execution of Mick Angelo had disappeared, as if washed away by the rain. There was only emotion now, fierce and strong, anger muddled with extreme fear. Even though the sour weather was by no means the mafia's fault, this didn't impact the rationale of the townspeople. Somehow they twisted this storm and subsequent internment in the attic as purely the mafia's fault, a situation borne out of the terrible spate of murders. They had to get rid of the rest of those killers, end the horrible criminals before those criminals ended them!

As most of the town squabbled, however, one woman stayed firmly pressed against the window, gazing despondently out, taking no part in the heated bickering. Most of the time she put on a good face, at least feigned moderate interest and surprise at the deaths, and appropriate loathing towards those responsible for them. But now, she was just too panicked to pretend. Not panicked at the prospect of being trapped in an attic with murderers, no, but at the prospect of this wretched flooding destroying the town's precious archives! Now this was a thought that turned Diana Pallada's stomach, twisted her gut into knots. The people, she couldn't care less about them.. well, save for two, but she knew they wouldn't be falling prey to the mafia in this attic. But the archives? Oh, the archives! Diana was a pragmatist, and paid little attention to emotion, but the thought of the precious historical archives falling prey to these rushing floodwaters pushed Diana close to tears.

And as she gazed out the window at the still-rising floodwaters, knowing that right now those irreplaceable archives might be meeting their water-logged doom, the sounds of the townspeople squabbling irked her. Listen to them lob about accusations, when right now history was being decimated! History! Diana was not normally prone to outbursts, but all the arguing was starting to grate on her. Her irritation built up, up up, expanding like a balloon filled with helium. And finally, as one person or another nominated yet another of their fellow townspeople as a possible execution candidate, Diana had had enough.

"Quiet!" she wheezed. "Stop your bickering! Who cares if the mafia is in here! Let them kill you all, you are just insignificant blips in history! Probably won't even garner a mention in any documents! DO NONE OF YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT THE FATE OF THE ARCHIVES, YOU UNCULTURED, UNEDUCATED PHILISTINES!? If any of you were worth anything you'd offer yourself up as sacrifices so that I could stack your bodies up in the street as a dam against the floodwaters, and then I could traverse you as a bridge to get to the archives! But instead you just sit here and argue!"

At first, no one in the attic quite knew what to say in response to Diana's tirade. They just stared at her, dumbfounded, trying to wrap their heads around what she'd just said. And once they'd had time to absorb her words, well, Sparky Drama O'Llama said it best: "Are you barking mad?"

"No!" Diana said. "You all are! I MEAN WHAT I SAID!"

From within the crowd, two pleading eyes bore into Diana, silently begging for her to just shut up already, before she got herself killed. But alas, it was too late.

"Only a mafioso would ever say such horrid things!" yelled Waffles, No Nets' server/cook, Tanya. "You wretched murderer!"

"I am not a murderer!" shot back Diana. "In fact, you are all the murderers: of HISTORY!"

"If you like your archives so much," rejoindered the town, "and if you think the idea of a human corpse bridge is such a dandy one, how about you be the first piece of it!?"

Not quite grasping the sarcasm, Diana said, "But I can't be dead! I need to rescue the archives, since none of you are trained in doing so!"

"I'm sure the archives will manage without you," growled the town.

And then they descended upon her. Several of the more burly men grasped her arms, while a few others pried open the attic's window. Wind-blown rain immediately lashed inside, soaking all who were near the opening; and as the weather beat at them, the townspeople shoved Diana out. She fell like a sack of bricks, striking the flooded cobblestones below with a sickening crack, her neck broken on impact and the water quickly carrying away her body. The town watched her float away, then shut the window once more.

As most of the people in the attic rejoiced about the death of a sure killer, two anonymous faces exchanged devastated looks. They knew it was too risky to speak, given the close quarters, but as they stared at one another, their eyes said it all: They've gotten another one of us. Oh, how the town will pay!

Diana Pallada was a MAFIA MEMBER.

SPOILER: Click to show

Diana approached the case of Wafflenet with the intent to write her book but she quickly realised that she had made a terrible mistake in picking this town and they were not going to provide her with the information she needed. When there began to be rumours of a mafia circulating, Diana, remembering the case of Netwaffle, saw her chance to reformulate her thesis to talk about the history of violence of the area, comparing Wafflenet and Netwaffle as well as examining what trends lead to this and how the two are connected. It would be a ground-shattering work. However, she needed to make sure the mafia got to the stage they did in Wafflenet so she offered them her services, also taking a perverse joy in being part of events for once instead of patiently recording them and formulating ideas about them. She was intelligent and could plan well so her services were appreciated. The money helped too.

Then she witnessed the killing of her first victim. She did not kill him herself but the death of Stal made Diana very aware of the fact that she felt nothing even as she watched a man die in front of her. She had been de-sentisised to death through her work, where a million people dying was nothing but a footnote. She of course had to hide it but fortunately, she was a good actress and it allowed her to be present as the scenes of all the murders to observe and report first-hand the consequences and reactions, as well as give her interesting insights into the criminal mind and gather more and more information for her book. She did not really care what happened to the town because it was insignificant in the face of time. It was just one town and perhaps its sacrifice might even expose the greater ebb and flow of history.

[Robyn]

Puella Paloma Columbidae was SERIOUSLY JUST ABOUT TO JUMP before someone roughly pulled her off of the ledge.

"YOU LIKE, MORON PERSON!" Britknee screamed, flinging her arms out in exasperation. "ARE YOU TRYING TO LIKE, KILL YOURSELF!? Cos if you wanna die, just offer yourself up to the mafia instead of jumping off a roof, jeesh! Then at least maybe the rest of us will have a chance!"

Puella Paloma Columbidae was touched. A magical girl would never consider such a horrid fate as suicide, no matter how dire the situation, if they were to truly inspire hope for all the children of the world. Britknee must have mistaken her intentions and come to save her from a grueling, untimely fate! Perhaps there was a little bit of puella magi in her, too.

Emotional, Puella Paloma Columbidae could only whisper, "B-britknee...chan..."

No one in this town had ever seemed more heroic to PPC (besides herself in the mirror) than the valley girl did right now. And-- were those cherry blossoms in the air, gently wafting Britknee's shimmering cornsilk hair in the breeze? Oh. No, it was just more rain and also a flying stick. But the sentiment was still there, and Puella Paloma Columbidae smiled graciously upon her would-be savior as she explained herself.

"Britknee-chan, you do not need to worry about me. With the blessings of the gods, I will cross safely and retrieve all the supplies everyone needs! Chaetura-san's survival gear, Merlot-san's Lyre of the Seven Dragons, and even Pallada-san's archi--"

There was a resounding CRACK from down below that was loud enough to make both girls look down. A familiar body was bobbing down the coursing channel, neck bent at an unnatural angle.

Terror seized Dove.

For a split second, she wasn't the powerful, virtuous anime hero who was about to undertake the dangerous mission no one else would and save the day-- she was just herself, just a girl living in a town that was now down to half its population, with a neighbor floating face-down into oblivion. She went into denial before she could stop herself.

Maybe she'd just fallen; maybe she was okay and just in shock and needed help and Dove screamed, "DIANA!"

She ran alongside the corpse as it disappeared and reappeared in the swells. There had to be a way, a rope or a branch or a wish or /anything/ that could fish her out and get her back and the town would be saved and she could sleep or-- "DIANA, SWIM!"

Dove snatched a ribbon off of the ground and-- no, much too short this wasn't going to WORK-- "GET BACK HERE! I--"

She yelped as she lost her footing and fell forward, skinning her knee and coming dangerously closely to sailing over the far corner of the roof. She'd run out of room. Bleeding, soaking, and crying, Dove watched Diana's body vanish into a swirl of murky nothingness.

"I have to save you," her voice broke.

For a little while, Dove couldn't bring herself to move. What was she supposed to do? Go out on her mission and bring everyone who'd just participated in yet another horrorshow supplies that would fuel their bodies and minds for more killing? Give up and get back to sitting around murderers upon murderers, always fearing everyone's next step? Maybe she would just die somehow trying to get from building to building. Then at least she would die away from anyone's bloodied hands. At least she would die trying.

Sniffling, Puella Paloma Columbidae slowly came back to herself, standing on shaky legs.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Britknee-chan. A magical girl tries her best to never fail, but we are not all-powerful beings."

She looked to the open window with newly steeled eyes. "I'm afraid I can't let you stop me on going on my mission. In the honor of every innocent friend who has died thus far, I have to keep the rest of us innocents alive. We can't let evil prevail. If the pursuit of justice is a path I must take alone, I will."

[Lizica]

This had gotten out of hand. This had gotten out of hand. Tracy, grasping at straws, wondered--if she had offered to shingle Waffles, No Nets with foil, would that have helped? Getting supplies sooner from the Shipshape Shop--would that have helped?

It may have been pouring rain, and there may have been bolts of lightning splintering the sky, but Tracy would rather be out there than in this attic.

As she struggled to open the trapdoor, she wondered if she and Dove and Mr. Osilon should still go to investigate the wellbeing of the archives. It was a last request, even if it had been requested...rather brutally. But it wasn't Ms. Palladio's fault. Nor was it the fault of the townspeople, Tracy told herself. It was all the aliens' fault. It was all their fault. And if she could just stop them, break their code, comfort the townspeople, or keep everyone from losing their heads, if she could just do that, couldn't they--couldn't they still--couldn't the town still--...

The door to the roof swung open, and Tracy's face was engulfed in a wave of hard rain. Coughing and sputtering, she pulled herself up and slammed the attic door shut. The excited, poisoning, rambling roar of the townspeople below vanished under the sound of the pounding rain. Farther up the roof, Dove and Courtknee were talking, but their conversation was indistinguishable over the rain.

Tracy rose carefully to her feet to make her way over. They'd all have to be extremely careful crossing these slick rooftops, so then--

Her foot slipped on Dove's dropped scepter, and with a frantic yell, Tracy was swept, feet first, down the rooftop at an alarming rate, hurtled by gushing water. Fingernails scraping uselessly against the tiles, she only barely managed to jam her foot into the gutter, stopping herself before she could tumble down into the crashing river below. For its part, Dove's scepter rolled off the eaves and landed in the water without so much as a splash.

For a long moment, Tracy sat there on the roof of Waffles, No Nets, breathing deep breaths.

Then, she spun her head upwards and scanned the clouds with narrowed eyes. The lightning cracked jagged across the black sky, and the ragged wind tried in vain to blow off Tracy's ballcap. To anyone else, she may have appeared to be screaming at the heavens, but she was not. "Alright!" she shrieked. "Alright! Fine! You want to play hardball? Then let's play hardball. I'll stop you, for every person you've destroyed!"

[Meowfia vs Moofia]

A cow with a scar floats down the street. It somehow got caught in the flood and struggled to stay afloat. It would be easy, except that there were several cats attack it from above. The cow moos as the cats hiss and claw. They float down the streets and disappear down an alley. Minutes later, the same cats could be seen on the rooftops.

[icon]

Everything was going to pieces, Osi thought.

And then he paused for a moment and revised; not quite, everything was going to even further pieces than it had already been. The birds were gone, gone, no chance anyone would stay around in weather like this; if the wind hadn't deterred them the battering rain and lightning would. Anyone who intended to stay around in this weather must have been mad, or else been seriously dedicated to something; Osilon wondered which category he fell under.

A scream rang out; no, two, three. Dove was panicking, and that Britknee lady was there with her. Miss Chaetura's situation was more pressing, with only a foot and a gutter to keep her from falling into the maelstrom below. This was bad, bad, falling apart, falling to chaos falling to darkness falling to the storm falling falling falling-

No, he thought. Things might be falling apart, but he had to stay. The birds would return; they always came back after storms, they continued on, they persisted. And he'd be a fool if he wasn't going to do the same. It was time he put his foot down.

Admittedly he put his foot down into a rapidly-growing puddle and nearly lost his footing, but that wasn't the point.

Tug on his goggles by the bridge of their nose, reposition them. Grab the edge of Waffles, No Nets's neon sign, scramble across the roof slick-black, slide down to the overflowing gutter. Miss Chaetura was yelling at the sky; he swung his hand out, tried to grab her. Lightning screamed above. He could hear part of Dove's dramatic spiel about justice, but he wasn't paying attention. There wasn't time to think. There was hardly enough time to act. A single slip-up here, and they would be in some very deep water.

[Fraze]

For reasons that were completely logical in context and had absolutely nothing to do with extenuating circumstances beyond the fourth wall, Mony chose to spend time observing. His initial query to Penny had been ignored, likely because she had more important business to attend to.

Mony considered speaking to Mick after he got killed, but the young man--whom she had considered as something of an apprentice, despite the criminal connections--looked to have his own post-mortem trials to deal with.

The entire town seemed to be jammed into Waffles, No Nets. It was built up some distance above the ground, and water could flow freely underneath it, but even that was quickly failing as the water level rose. And now people were slowly trickling out, risking death by falling or drowning rather than by mafia or angry mobs, in order to get supplies.

High time to help out.

In life, Mony had made a point of catering to as many of the townspeoples' quirks as possible--both because it brought in money, and because he enjoyed seeing happy customers. She included a waffle-and-paper order in the menu for Fluffle, and had been attempting to pull enough language out of a Japanese phrasebook to greet Dove in a way that she might appreciate. It was probably a bit too late to try the latter one now, but you never knew.
There was a young woman who had lived in Wafflenet several years ago, who fancied herself a pirate. She was dark haired, quite short, and carried a cutlass around on one hip. Drunk most of the time. Wore a red cape for some reason, even though it didn't fit with the motif. On her birthday one year, Mony had rigged up the entire restaurant to look like the deck of a ship. She was a bit too sloshed to appreciate the gesture fully, but it became a fun theme day for the patrons nonetheless.

Of course, Mony still had all the rope and netting used for the event. They were stored in the attic in a box. That one, way back in the corner--oh, great, the one underneath all the spare pots. Mony had hoped to get this done without being too conspicuous, but it looked like that would be impossible. Putting all his willpower into the task, she shoved against the pile of pots, which toppled over in front of the crowd of people who remained huddled in the attic.
Sure enough, there were several long lengths of rope, carefully coiled, and a few large swaths of fish netting. Mony first lifted up one of the coils, and haphazardly carried it outside--moving and carrying something at the same time was almost too much to manage, and he ended up dropping the pile several times.

Once at the front entrance of the restaurant, she did his best to tie one end off to the railing of the restaurant porch. Unsure whether she could complete the task alone, Mony then flew over to Mick. "We need to get the other end of that tied to the gallows as a guideline. Then from there, we can tie more rope to wherever the living people 'round here need to go. Can you help me out? That ought to knock a bit of time off whatever sort of purgatory you've gotten yourself into."